Lost Without You
by Benevolent Destruction
Summary: A long separation from her love, Raizo, has left Mika feeling cold and alone. Will a certain German friend help her find solace in a world full of hurt? Or will old demons come back to haunt her? Raizo has found a new place for himself in the world, yet more and more he questions just who he really is. But there is one thing that remains certain: love always leads to disaster.
1. Acceptance

**A/N: **Howdy, y'all! Here it is: the sequel to **Only Time**. If you haven't read the first story, I would strongly recommend that you do. Otherwise, bits of the story may seem quite confusing. I'm very sorry about the wait, but I'm also very glad that its here at last. I decided to mix things up a bit, so every other chapter will be written from Mika's POV, and every other chapter from Raizo's. I'm anxious to hear what you guys think. Please read, review, and enjoy~

**Lost Without You**

_Acceptance of what has happened is the first step to overcoming the consequences of any misfortune. _

- William James

Chapter 1: Acceptance

Her head was leaned against the window—cold glass numbing her forehead. Rain slithered down the glass, pooled on the window sill, and eventually spilled over the edge and dripped onto the sidewalk several feet below. Chestnut brown eyes gazed with indifference as sheets of rain covered everything within her range of sight with beads of water. The sun was blotted out by abysmal gray clouds, swathing her limp form and her room in an equally gray, dim light.

She felt cold.

Her joints hurt. Her muscles hurt. Her heart hurt.

She closed her eyes. She could see him, she could see _them_, lounging at the bank of the lake. Together. Happy.

_Happy_, she thought. _Something I have not felt in a long, long time. _

As much as she wanted to hate him, as much as she wanted to blame him for everything that had happened, she couldn't. In fact, she hated herself and blamed herself. So many nights…so many nights she had cried herself to sleep. Then, the searing pain in her chest that was characteristic of heart break would rouse her. And she would cry herself to sleep yet again. It was a vicious, never-ending cycle. Her days were filled with emptiness. She rarely ate and even more scarcely left the sanctity of her home. When she was not curled in the fetal position on her bed, she could be found on the window-seat of her room, head against the glass and eyes void of emotion.

_It…it hurts…_ Her body went through a violent shudder and she wrapped her arms around herself. _It hurts so much!_ She clenched her eyes shut. Tears squeezed through her tightly-sealed eyelids and slid down her cocoa skin. She continued to shudder and tremor, the tears continued to roll. After a few moments, sleep embraced her. And, as was customary, she did not dream. How could she? There was no hope, no happiness—nothing to dream about, nothing to hope for, nothing to care for.

Nothing.

* * *

It took some work to get her eyes to open. They didn't take long to adjust to the light for it was well into the evening when she awoke. The dried, saline streaks on her cheeks irritated her skin, so she rubbed at her face with the back of her hand.

"You awake?"

She did not jump at the sudden sound. She merely took in a long, deep breath and released it with a loud sigh. "Unfortunately."

"How are you doing?" he asked.

"Never been worse. You?" Her voice was hoarse from disuse.

Ryan frowned and looked at the back of her head with sympathy in his eyes. Every day he let himself in and asked her the same question. Every day he received the same answer. It had been one month and two weeks since she returned home. He knew that she had been hurting, but he thought that in a couple weeks' time she would be better. Perhaps not as saucy and vibrant as she had been, but…_alive_. If she didn't sniffle every now and again or give the occasional sigh, she looked just like a lifeless body.

For the first two weeks he swung by and greeted her cheerfully, spoke consoling words, and tried his darndest to comfort her. But her mind seemed impregnable. She simply couldn't be reached. Initially, he whole-heartedly believed that she would get through this. That she would get that heart-crushing bastard out of her head. Now…? Now he was beginning to think: would she ever be okay?

They sat in silence for a spell as Ryan reflected. After a while, he spoke up. "Mika, I know that you're feeling sad and depressed—"

"'Sad and depressed' doesn't even begin to cover it," she interjected.

"…but, you need to get out of the house," he resumed. "It'll be good for you. You need some nice, fresh air. And, quite frankly, your compensation from Europol is almost up. You do realize that after this year, the payments stop, right?"

"I'm aware," she said coldly. Painfully aware. She had lost her job because she vanished for two months. She hadn't sent in any word as to where she was and why she left. She was just gone. Ryan covered for her for as long as he could, but he could only make up excuses for so long. What had she been doing? She had been running around with _him_ and the Tanjao. With Raizo…

"Well, I think now's the time to get a job and start saving up."

She scoffed and laughed. "A job? What the hell am I supposed to do, Ryan? Bust tables at some dead-end diner; pick up peoples' trash for the rest of my life?"

"Those are perfectly respectable jobs." The corners of his mouth twitched with the hint of a smile.

She kissed her teeth and glared out the window.

"I only kid, Mika. I've been asking around and I found a guy who can get you a job with law enforcement."

She didn't speak.

"I know, it's a stretch," he continued, "but it's not that far of a leap from what you did with Eurpol. Instead of chasing ninjas, you'll just be chasing bad guys."

She cringed.

"Oh, sorry." He forgot that even the mention of the assassins reminded her of Raizo.

She shook her head. "It's ok. Go on."

"So, the benefits are pretty good and you would still be making the same salary. You'd only have to work Mondays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, and you'd get a pension plan. Of course, you'll have to go through some training, but I talked to the Chief and you'll only have to do about two months compared to the normal two years." He paused and allowed the information to sink in. "So…what do you think?"

She was silent. All that could be heard was the lyrical _pit-pat-pit-pat_ of the rain outside.

"When would I start?"

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?!" she shrieked. She turned around and faced him for the first time that evening. "How could I possibly start tomorrow?"

"Well, you'd get up, eat some breakfast, possibly take a shower, get dressed…"

"Ryan!"

"Look, I understand that you're still in a lot of pain, but holing yourself up in your room isn't going to make things any better. You need to get out of this shell of an apartment and meet people! Make some friends, go out and have a good time!"

Mika rolled her eyes and turned back around, resuming her former position—eyes watching as water slid down the glass of the window. "I don't want friends, I don't want to have a good time."

"And why's that?" Ryan asked dryly.

"Because I can't trust them," she murmured. "H-How do I know they…they won't betray me too?" She could feel the tears coming on again.

"You trust me don't you?"

"…Yes. Yes, I trust you. You're the only one I have left. Do you intend on abusing my trust too?"

"Damnit, Mika, I'm sick of this! Would you stop feeling sorry for yourself for one Goddamn minute and open your eyes? There are plenty of _good_, genuine people out there. People that won't hurt you like he did. People like me."

She merely blinked.

"And, you know, I am really offended that you would even think that. Abuse your trust? I've known you for seven years, Mika, and you've been my best friend for all of them. Have I ever hurt you? Answer me!"

"No," she said feebly.

"Have I ever betrayed you?"

"No."

"Exactly. So don't you ever say that again. I love you, you know it, and you'd better not forget it."

Mika closed her eyes and sighed. He was right. "…Okay…but just one more thing."

"What?"

"What time will you pick me up tomorrow?"

* * *

Ryan swore and muttered underneath his breath. "For the love of—MIKA! Get your lazy ass out of bed!"

Said female moaned and grumbled underneath the covers.

"For Christ's sake, woman, are you really going to be late for your first day on the job? Get up!"

"Ugh, no," she whined, "tell them I died in a train accident or something."

Ryan glared at the mass on the bed and shook his head.

"Alright. You've left me no choice." She heard the sound of his heavy footsteps fade as he exited the room and waltzed down the hallway.

Mika opened her eyes and listened carefully. What on earth was he planning? She strained her ears for any source of sound. Nothing. Mika shrugged and snuggled closer to her pillow. _Maybe he left. Finally. That ornery old coot._

A few minutes later…

"AAAIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EE!" Mika screeched, shot out from underneath the covers, and flopped onto the floor. She was completely drenched and shivering. "What the _fuck_, Ryan?!"

"I told you to get up," he said with a smug smirk.

"Well you didn't have to throw a pitcher of ice water on me!"

"Apparently I did, you lazy arse. You wouldn't have gotten out of bed otherwise."

She shrugged. "Eh…"

"Well, that takes care of your shower. Go get changed and brush your teeth. I've got some bagels and coffee waiting in the car."

"Whatever you say, Dad."

Ryan glared.

"I'm still pissed off, by the way."

The male waived her off and smiled. "Please, you're too manically depressed to do anything about it."

"Maybe so, but I'll get you back—oh just you wait."

* * *

"And here's your office. It's small, I know, but you'll hardly be here. I'm putting you on patrol. That sound good?"

Mika glanced up at Ryan with a 'bored-to-death' look in her eyes.

"She thinks its fine," Ryan said with a smile.

The Chief returned his smile, though he looked a bit uneasy. He nodded his head and left the two to Mika's new cubicle. Mika flopped down in her chair and promptly slammed her head down on her desk. "Ryan," she slurred, lips pressed against the smooth surface of her desk.

"What?"

"I don't wanna do this."

Ryan rolled his eyes. "What you want doesn't matter. What matters is what you need and what you _need _is this job."

"What I NEED is a couple shots of bourbon."

"So you're a drunkard now?"

"No, but I'm thinkin' about it."

"Ugh. I don't know what to do with you.

"Take me home?" she asked—hopeful.

"Sure. After your twelve-hour shift is up."

Mika raised her head so fast she almost got a nosebleed. "My twelve-hour _what_?"

Ryan smirked. "You heard me."

"You little—"

"Hey, Corretti, sorry to interrupt, but it's time to begin your training."

Mika withheld the urge to roll her eyes. "Yes sir, Chief." As she trudged out of her cubicle, following the uniformed male, the brunette pointed a menacing finger at Ryan and glared. That combination translated as: Just wait until I get my hands on you.

* * *

As soon as she entered her room, she kicked off her shoes, threw her bag into the corner, and jumped onto the bed. Mika curled into the fetal position and snuggled close to her pillow. She mumbled something incoherent against the pillow.

"What was that?" Ryan asked.

She lifted her head and growled, "I said: 'today _sucked'_."

"Oh, please. I'm sure it wasn't that bad."

"You know what, Ryan, you're right! Compared to what the rest of my week looks like, today was a cake walk." Mika rolled her eyes and pressed her face into the blankets.

"What does the rest of your week look like?"

Mika sat up and crossed her arms over her chest. "Well, tomorrow I get to suffer through what they call 'conditioning'. Do you know what conditioning _is_, Ryan," she spat.

Said male rolled his eyes. "No, but I'm pretty sure you're going to tell me."

"It's when you have to learn to use the weapons you've been issued and said weapons are used on _you_ so you know exactly what you're inflicting on other people."

"Oh…"

"Yeah," Mika snapped and buried her face in her pillow once again.

"Well, it'll only last for one day, right? You'll get over it."

Mika raised her hand and flicked him off in response.

Ryan rolled his eyes and smiled. "Love you too, sweetheart. See ya later." With that, he exited her room and left.

Once she heard the front door click shut and the lock slide into place, she slowly lifted her head. A deep sigh escaped her lips. She sat up with her legs crossed, her elbows propped up on her thighs and her head supported by two fists under her chin. "Life as a cop is gonna suck," she said to the air. Everything seemed so pointless. She didn't want to work, let alone get out of bed in the morning. And why should she? She had no motivation. Nothing at all to keep her going or make her want to care.

His name floated through her mind like a leaf in the wind. Raizo. Her one, her only, her true love. The same Raizo who took her life, the same Raizo that gave it right back. The same Raizo she finally got to admit he loved her, the same Raizo who said they should be apart. And although Mika could see the logic in what he said that night, about staying away from each other for a while…it still hurt. A lot.

Suddenly, Mika perked up. There _was_ one good thing that would come out of being a cop.

She would have a gun.

* * *

_Two months later…_

"Herzlichen Glückwunsch Klasse von 2012. Sie sind jetzt offizielle Polizeianwärter. Dienen Ihrer Zustand gut."

Applause filled the room. "Congratulations class of 2012," the Chief translated, "You are now official police recruits. Serve your State well." With that, the commencement speech ended and everyone stood up and cheered. Everyone sans Mika.

The people promptly rose and went straight for the refreshments. The Chief stepped down from the podium and approached Mika who was now the only one left seated. "Corretti. You don't seem to share the same enthusiasm as the rest of the officers. What's the matter?"

She shook her head. "It's nothing, Chief."

"Cut the crap, Corretti. I've been around a long time, so there's no sense in lying to me."

Mika looked up at his face. It was tanned and weathered like old, worn out leather and was creased and wrinkled from years of smiling and stress. He had hazel eyes and sported a bald head quite well. She smiled for what felt like the first time. "I'm just...going through some hard times."

"Oh really?" The older male grunted as he took a seat next to her. "Guess that makes two of us." His laugh was hardy and loud. "Look, we all have good times and we all have bad times. But you know what a dear old friend of mine once said to me?"

"What?"

"He said: 'the bitter tastes in life make the sweet ones that much sweeter.' Isn't that nice?"

"Hm… I like that."

The Chief smiled and rested a hand on her shoulder. "Any time you need to talk, I'm here for you. Now, usually I don't extend this privilege to everyone," he smirked, "but, when I look at you, well, I honestly see some of myself. And back when I was a young guy, I was going through some tough times too. But an old fellow like myself promised to be there for me and, well, if it wasn't for that reassurance…let's just say I might not be here right now." He took a deep breath and sighed. "So, I'm passing it forward, doing my part; returning the good he's done for me."

Mike gazed up into his eyes and nodded. "Thanks, Chief. I appreciate it."

"Sure thing, kid." The Chief of Police got up, stretched his arms, and waltzed out of the auditorium—leaving Mika alone in a sea of empty chairs. She tilted her head back and focused her eyes on the crystal chandelier above. _Maybe being a cop won't be so bad after all._

Then, once again, her mind drifted to Raizo—the man she thought was the love of her life. She didn't clench her eyes closed. She did not feel tears rolling down her cheek. All she felt was a dull, throbbing pain right in the middle of her heart. She was sick of crying over someone who obviously didn't love her. Sick of hoping for him to come back. Sick of believing that what he said before they parted ways was true—that they would meet again. She knew that was a lie and was tired of pretending it was the truth.

She was going to, at last, take Ryan's advice and venture out into the world. Make some friends, laugh a little, and have some fun. Lord knows when she would be able to trust again, but she was okay with that. She would survive.

Mika Corretti was finally ready to let go.


	2. Monster

**A/N: **Thank you to all of those who reviewed and who are following the story! ^_^ I really appreciate the feedback. It motivates me to keep this thing going. This chapter was written from Raizo's POV. Please Read, Review, and Enjoy~

_Constantly choosing the lesser of two evils is still choosing evil._

- Jerry Garcia

Chapter 2: Monster

The breeze was warm and inviting. It blew his hair away from his face and caressed his cheek. The cup in his hands was piping hot, so he gingerly sipped its contents. The scene before him was breath-taking and beautiful. He gazed upon snow-capped mountains, rolling green hills, and a sea of the tallest evergreen trees he had ever seen. The sun was just beginning its decent, so the wondrous land of Italy was bathed in a rich, canary-yellow light. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. He came to this spot whenever he was troubled—whenever he wanted to clear his head. It usually worked but, for some reason, not today. He just couldn't shake the thoughts that plagued his mind. He couldn't shake…her.

"Hey, Raizo, its time to go."

"Alright, I'm coming." He finished the last of his tea and placed the cup on a sterling silver tray to his left. A young woman with jet-black hair wrapped up into a tight bun walked up quickly, bowed, and removed it.

Raizo laced his fingers behind his back and stretched.

_One more day, one more victim to slay. _

_One more night, time to take another life._

It was a mantra he repeated to himself over and over and over again, with the vain hope that it would somehow make what he was doing 'alright'. That it would make murdering someone he had never seen, who had a wife, a husband, a daughter, a son, a mother, a father…that it would make slaughtering them all…'alright'.

But it was never alright. No matter how many times he told himself, he could never fully accept it as the truth. But, so is the life of an assassin. It doesn't matter what you think or how you feel. What matters is getting the job done, doing it right the _first_ time, and leaving no survivors.

Not one. Not one…

* * *

Tonight he was alone. They were testing his abilities; seeing if he truly was what he claimed to be. He performed the usual tasks: he cut the lights, severed the telephone lines connected to the house, siphoned the gas from all of the vehicles, and set-up a cell phone jammer to block all signals. He did all of this, passed the German Sheppard guard dogs, and slipped into the house within five minutes. It was just too easy.

He did not know why he had to kill this man, but he was going to. He was going to take the lives of him and all of the members of his household. Raizo never asked questions, he never talked out of turn. He did what he was told and did it without being told twice. He was ruthless. He was cold-blooded. He was a Ninja Assassin.

No one had noticed that all of the wires in the circuit breaker had been cut, because everyone was fast asleep. Raizo traveled through the shadows. He entered the Realm of the Shadows by stepping into a corner of the living room and exited when he slid from the darkness underneath a bed. Judging by the posters on the walls, the toy cars, and the plastic guns, this was a boy's room. He quietly crawled from beneath the bed and got to his feet. He looked at the child huddled close to his pillow. His hair was brown and his skin was tan. He looked so peaceful, so innocent.

But that would not be enough to save him.

When he was done, he stepped into the shadow of the boy's cardboard cutout of a famous basketball player and left the room. The child's end came swiftly and without pain. It was the least Raizo could do.

The next room he entered was the most important. There he found the man he was to kill and, lying next to him, his wife. They both looked like they could be in their mid-thirties. Raizo walked up to the side of the bed and placed his gloved hand on the man's shoulder. He awoke with a jolt. The man first appeared confused, but when he realized who it was at his bedside, his expression morphed into one of sheer terror.

"Please," he pleaded, "please don't kill me!"

"Shh," Raizo whispered and placed a finger on the man's lips.

"O-Okay…Okay…" He closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing—accepting that death was imminent. Tears squeezed through his closed eyelids and streamed down his face. He shivered and twitched uncontrollably. Raizo was reaching into the folds of his suit to retrieve the weapon that would take this man's life, when said male's eyes flew open and he grabbed Raizo's arm. "Wait! I know you will not spare me, but please…," he started sobbing, "please spare my wife and children. I love them more than anything else in this world." He wept openly, a once powerful man broken down into nothing but tears.

Raizo gazed upon him with jaded eyes. He was not there to put him at ease, he was not there to make deals or to compromise. He was there to do a job; complete a mission.

In response to the man's begging and entreating, Raizo delivered the same message he did to all of his marks. He leaned forward and whispered in the man's ear, "Your killer…is Vitorre." A blade pierced his abdomen, along with ten others that pierced him from neck to waist. He didn't even have time to think. All he could do (now that he was immobilized) was register the agonizing pain and watch from the corner of his eye as Raizo repeated the action to his sleeping wife. They both would have shrieked and cried out in pain, but the blade in their throats made any form of speech impossible.

Within moments, they were dead. Raizo always waited until the last tear rolled, until the only thing that still moved was blood as it emptied from their bodies. He turned around, ready to leave now that his job was complete, and found himself looking down upon a small, little girl. He knew exactly when she had gotten out of her bed to use the bathroom; he knew exactly when she entered her parents' room—hoping that they would let her spend the night with them.

She had seen everything.

And yet, she did not cry. She simply asked, "Why?" in that small, high-pitched voice of hers. Raizo got down on one knee and motioned for her to come closer. She was dressed in a pink nightgown and clutched a stuffed monkey to her chest. Her first steps were hesitant, but she eventually made her way into Raizo's arms. He turned her around so that he could hug her from behind. He was not going to tell her that everything was going to be okay, because not even he could bring himself to tell such a lie. He just held her.

"Sir? Are… are you going to kill me, too?"

Raizo stroked her long, brown hair and pulled a knife from the folds of his suit. As he placed the cold, metal blade against the bare skin of her neck, he whispered in her ear, "I'm sorry." He slit her throat quickly. Instantly, blood poured forth and dribbled onto his gloved hands. He laid her lifeless body to the floor and wrapped her limp arms around the blood-stained monkey. He stood up and looked around the room, looking at the death and the destruction that resulted from his hands. There was no emotion—no grief, no regret, no remorse. He simply turned his back to the scene and walked into the darkness of the closet. And with that, he was gone.

* * *

He walked up the pebbled path in casual clothing. He donned a pair of fitted jeans, a white v-neck, and a pair of matching tennis shoes. There was a large overhang that loomed before the front door of the house that served as a drop-off/valet parking area for the landowner's more esteemed guests. Raizo passed several rose bushes, finely manicured hedges, and marble statues polished white and to the point of shining. Waiting for him at the door was a man in a black suit with dark-tinted sunglasses. He took a puff of his cigar, flicked some of the ash off, and put it back into his mouth. When he noticed Raizo walking up, he gave him a nod in greeting and opened the door. Raizo returned the gesture and walked in.

The place had a high, dome ceiling with intricate paintings outlined with gold. _Real_ gold. There were logs burning in a nearby fireplace and the walls were covered with brilliant tapestries. The floor he walked on was solid granite and glinted in the light of diamond chandeliers.

Eventually the spacious room narrowed into a dim hallway. At the end there stood a man and a door.

"Vitorre will see you now." With that, he swept open the door. Raizo entered wordlessly. The door was left open for security reasons. Raizo couldn't understand why, though. He was a ninja. He could slaughter everyone in this mansion if he really wanted to. The thought quickly left his mind, though, once he laid eyes on the man he had come to see. Vitorre. The room looked like your typical crime boss' study: wide, dark wooden desk, high-back chair, a few bookshelves, and—of course—a couple glasses and a bottle of hard liquor.

"Raizo! So good to see you." His voice was deep, but his Italian accent was heavy. "Ha, I must say that you have far surpassed my expectations. I knew that I would be getting a skilled assassin when the Grand Master of Tanjao sent you, but still! _You_ are a true killing machine, eh?"

How could someone be so jovial about murder?

"Please, have a seat."

"No thank you."

"Sure, sure, that's fine." Vitorre propped up his elbows on the desk, laced his fingers together, and placed his chin on the bridge that his fingers created. "So, no survivors I assume?"

"Yes. I followed your directions exactly." Images of the young girl flooded his mind—that crimson smile he created when he slit her throat.

"Good, good." Vitorre uncapped the bottle of liquor and started to pour himself a glass. "You like whiskey?"

Raizo shook his head.

"Eh," he said with a shrug. He took a sip of the drink and reclined in his chair. "Raizo…I like you. You do your job and you do your job well. I've had my eye on you for quite some time and I've decided that you're better than side jobs. I want you to be one of my personal bodyguards."

Raizo remained motionless, his face a stoic mask.

"I'm going to an auction tonight," Vitorre continued, "and I would like you there for some…extra support. Now, this is a very special type of auction that only a select few know about. I'm inviting you because I trust you. And my trust is something that you don't abuse, capisci(1)?"

"I understand."

"Good!" Vitorre clapped his hands together. Raizo caught the glare of his many gold rings and bracelets. "Meet me here tonight at eleven. My men will dress you in uniform when you arrive."

Raizo nodded.

"Alright. Ciao."

Without another word, Raizo stepped out of the study and went on his way.

The meeting was brief, but then again, they always were. Raizo went directly to him for assignments and, in return, a suitcase full of money would be waiting for him in an alley the following day. But he didn't do it for the money. Yes, the cash paid for his flat, but that was all he used it for. The rest he gave to charity, the homeless, or the hungry. It didn't make him any more of a better person, but in those instances when he gave a starving mother a wad of bills, when he donated thousands of dollars to orphanages…he felt genuine happiness. In those instances…he didn't feel like such a _monster_.

No, he didn't do it for the money. He did it because no matter how hard he tried to stay away, his fingers itched for his knives, for his blade, for his blessed kusarigama. He lusted for the scent of blood. But each time he killed, it didn't leave him feeling satisfied—it left him feeling empty. Hollow. Like there was nothing inside, not even a beating heart. How could he feel otherwise? _She_ had stolen his heart and had run off. Mika. _His_ Mika. She plagued his mind constantly and never allowed him a wink of sleep. All he could see at night was her lifeless body tied to that dreadful stake in Tanjao's dojo, her beautiful smile, the agony in her eyes when he told her goodbye. It was all his fault. Initially, he thought that he was doing the right thing, that she would be protected and that, eventually, he would keep his promise—he would see her again. But, now that he was involved with Vitorre, he couldn't help but wonder,_Did I make the right choice?_

* * *

Raizo knocked on the door precisely at 11 o'clock. He needed only wait a minute before a brown-haired man answered. "Salve!(2) I am Fabio, Vitorre's partner in crime." He winked. "Please, please, come in." He stepped aside and allowed Raizo entrance. "We are very pleased to have you with us," he said, gesturing to the rest of the crew who lounged around. "This evening will be a very special one, eh?" He poked Raizo in the ribs with his elbow. His grey eyes had a sort of impish light to them.

What was going on tonight?

Fabio put his arm around the male's shoulder and guided him into what looked like a coat room. "Alright. Here is your new uniform!"

His new 'uniform' consisted of a tailored, black, three-piece suit, a pair of matching leather shoes, and a pair of dark-tinted sunglasses. On a chair sat a rubber-band and some gel.

"What is that for?" Raizo inquired.

Fabio smirked. "Why, your new hairstyle of course."

x-x-x

Raizo felt like a completely different person. He was dressed in black from head to toe (which really wasn't that different from his usual attire) and his hair was slicked back into a ponytail. But, he did have to admit that upon inspection in a mirror, he did look like quite the bad ass. Now he was waiting in the main room of the house with the rest of the crew.

At about 11:30pm, Vitorre waltzed into the room, dressed in a dark blue suit, with a complementing light gray shirt, and a tie with stripes of three shades of blue. His long, black hair was combed back and gelled. His grey eyes gleamed in the yellow light. "Alright, men, who's ready for some fun?"

* * *

The hotel was beautiful—from the gold fixtures to the satin carpets. Women laughed and cavorted about, some dressed modestly, others leaving little to the imagination. But no time was to be spent ogling. Vitorre and his crew went straight to the elevator. Once inside with the doors closed, Fabio said to the elevator man, "The Lounge."

"Yes, sir," the man operating the elevator replied with a nod. He pulled out a ring of keys and flipped open a panel. Underneath was a keyhole. He inserted a small, golden key and twisted it to the right. The elevator immediately began its assent. The machine was incredibly fast. It soared up and up and up at 20 miles per hour. Raizo noticed that there were only 12 buttons marking the different floors of the building, but the screen in the elevator said that they had just passed floor 24. He furrowed his brow. What kind of hotel was this?

It only took them three minutes from the moment they entered the elevator to reach their destination on the thirtieth floor.

"The Lounge," the man announced and the doors slid open.

The elevator opened into a long, dim hallway.

"Sir Vitorre, your room is 201. Complementary Grey Goose will be waiting."

"Thank you," Fabio answered for him. He stepped out first, followed by Vitorre and the rest of his gang. Raizo brought up the rear. They walked down the hall silently, the thump of their leather shoes echoed throughout the hall.

"Ah, here we are. Room 201." Fabio swept the door open to allow his superior entrance. They all filed inside and, because Raizo was last, he closed the door. The room was dimly lit and cold. It was empty with the exception of what appeared to be a circular stage in the center of the room and a chair not too far off. Vitorre took a seat while Fabio poured him a glass of Vodka.

"Good evening, gentlemen." The female, automated voice pierced the silence. "We have beautiful new pieces for you tonight. We have comprised a wonderful selection based on your past purchases and preferences. Enjoy."

Smooth, slow jazz began to play through the speakers as the stage lit up. White lights that trimmed the edge came to life and a glaring spotlight illuminated the center.

Raizo raised a curious brow. He noticed the rustling of curtains beyond the spotlight. Then, a woman came forward into the light. She had tanned skin, fair hair, and her eyes were a sparkling blue. But all of this was lost to Raizo, because all he could focus on was the way she swayed and wobbled, barely able to stand on her own two feet. His eyes immediately went to her arms and, just as he expected, he found small puncture wounds. She had been drugged.

_What…what __**is**__ this?_

Vitorre shook his head. The spotlight was turned off and the woman was ushered back behind the curtains. When the spotlight was turned on again, a new one stood in her place. Her olive skin and brown hair suggested that she was a native—Italian. Vitorre considered for a little while, but wound up shaking his head again in disapproval. She was taken away.

Realization suddenly dawned on him. This was no ordinary auction. And they weren't just displaying women. They were trafficking them. Disgust made bile well up in his throat. These men were sick. Absolutely revolting. How could they dishonor and disrespect women in such a way? Had they no morals? Raizo started to rethink his entire relationship with Vitorre. Raizo could kill the guilty and the innocent without blinking an eye, but this…?

But then, another thought occurred to him. Were the two of them—Raizo and Vitorre—were they really so different? Although one murdered and the other manipulated and abused, they were still one and the same. This made Raizo's blood run cold.

No matter how he looked at it, they were both horrible, ruthless beings.

They were both **monsters**.

* * *

(1) Capisci - Italian for "understand"

(2) Salve - Italian for "hello"


	3. Mistake?

**A/N: **Chapter three is here! Woo! Just for the record, Vitorre, Fabio, and Johann are _my_ characters. Mika and Raizo are not. Tell me what you guys think! This question may be a bit of a **spoiler**, but was it too soon? You'll know what I mean towards the end of the chapter. Please read, review, and enjoy~

_Even a mistake may turn out to be the one thing necessary to a worthwhile achievement._

- Henry Ford

Chapter 3: Mistake?

Mika shrugged off her bullet-proof vest and flung it into her locker. She slammed the door shut and turned the dial on the lock just as a safety precaution. Then she pulled the elastic hair tie from her head and instantly sighed with relief.

_So that's where that migraine was coming from._

"Yo, Coretti!"

Mika looked up to see her partner walking towards her. Johann Brandt. Possibly one of the most handsome, stunning German men she had ever laid eyes on. He had chestnut brown hair and sky blue eyes. His face was long and his cheek bones were high. He had a little stubble around his chin and upper lip, but it wasn't unkempt. If anything, it added to his rugged appearance. His shoulders were wide and his chest toned. By the way his shirt clung to his abdomen she could tell that he was packing tight rows of abs. And let's not even _begin_ to talk about that ass.

"A couple of the guys and I were gonna go get some drinks at the bar. You want in?" His German accent was simply to die for.

"Well that depends: you treating?"

He grinned. He bowed and made a sweeping gesture towards the door. "Always for you. But only you. Those other bastards have to pay for their own damn drinks."

"Easy, sailor," she said with a wink.

"After you."

Mika rolled her eyes and walked out of the locker room. She passed by rows and rows of empty desks, piled high with papers and lined with photographs of loved ones. The officers stuck on the night shift were either patrolling or polishing guns in the armory. She pushed both doors of the Police Department open and inhaled the sweet summer air. She closed her eyes and allowed a warm evening breeze to caress her cheek. She opened them once more when she heard footsteps behind her. "So, where's your ride?"

He nodded in the direction of a bike. But it wasn't just an ordinary bike. It was a sleek, graphite, BMW K1300S—possibly one of the sexiest motorcycles she had ever seen. Well, manufactured by BMW, anyway.

The brunette's jaw went slack. "How?! Those didn't even come out yet!"

He shrugged and smiled. "What can I say? I have connections." He strolled over to his bike, swung his leg over the side, and grabbed his helmet. "Get on."

Normally, Mika would've protested and demanded a 'please', but decided to simply shake her head and comply. She gracefully mounted the bike. "So, where's my helmet?" He simply reached back and handed her the black head gear over his shoulder. She reluctantly took it from him. "What about you?"

"Eh, don't worry about it. Are you ready?"

Mika used both hands to wiggle the helmet on, ensuring it was secure. She flipped the visor up and said, "Ready," before sliding it back down.

"Okay, hold on." Without hesitation, she leaned in and wrapped her arms around his waist—pressing her chest to his back. He pressed a button on the left handle bar and the bike shuddered slightly as the engine revved. He swiftly kicked back the kickstand and they were off, immediately entangled in traffic. They shot down the roadways at what felt like light speed. They veered in and out of lanes, dangerously close to cars and curbs. At one point, they came to a congested area, so Johann jumped onto the sidewalk. Mika screamed and squeezed his abdomen. She was yelling and shrieking profanities, but he couldn't hear her. All he could hear were frightened, angry grumbles coming from behind. He threw his head back and laughed before twisting back on the handle and shooting forward even faster!

Eventually, as Mika got used to the pace, her heart beat began to slow and she finally opened her eyes (which she hadn't even realized were squeezed shut). She saw the beautiful city of Berlin pass by, so lit up and full of life even at midnight and on a Wednesday. When she felt comfortable enough, she lifted up the visor and yelled, "Hey! I thought we were going to the bar! We should've been there by now!"

"I know! I lied!"

"You what?!"

"I dunno, I thought we'd hang out somewhere else instead!" He looked back at her and smiled.

"You know, technically this is kidnapping!"

"You gonna arrest me, officer?"

"Oh, I'll do more than arrest you."

He chuckled. "Looking forward to it." She leaned her head against his back and enjoyed the rest of the ride. They zipped down the city streets at an incredible speed; the lights of the city a marvelous blur. When the bike finally slowed and rolled to a halt, Mika raised her head and looked around. They were at the far end of town now and parked in front of an abandoned warehouse. The brunette dismounted the motorcycle, pulled of her helmet, and shook her hair loose. The effect was not lost on Johann. He swallowed.

"A warehouse? Pretty shady, Brandt."

He chuckled and propped his bike up on its kickstand. "I always bring beautiful women out here. Can you tell?"

She shot him a playful glare in response to his sarcasm. "Are you insinuating that I'm not beautiful?"

"Yes," he stated simply. Upon seeing her blink in genuine surprise, he grinned. "How could I dare refer to you in such a way? The word hardly does you justice."

Mika rolled her eyes. "Uh-huh. Nice try."

Johann shrugged. "It was a damn good one, though." They both broke out into a fit of laughter. After he caught his breath, he wiped a tear from his eye and roughly hooked his arm around hers. "Come with me." He more or less dragged her inside the decrepit building. The inside was full of dusty crates stacked to the ceiling, spider webs, and objects with white sheets strewn over them. "The place was supposed to be torn down years ago. Something about a weak infrastructure."

"So you mean to tell me the roof could cave in on us at any moment?!"

"Adds to the excitement, doesn't it?" He winked.

If it was up to her, she would've turned around right then and there and walked out, but he had a vice grip on her arm. He led her to a door on the far side of the warehouse and pushed it open with his free hand. A stairwell. He led her up a few flights of stairs until they finally ended up on the roof. The sight she saw made her breath catch in her throat. Once he observed how taken she was by the scene, he released his hold.

"Wow…this is beautiful." Stretched out before them was the magnificent city of Berlin in all its splendor.

Johann shoved his hands in his pockets and enjoyed the view. "Yeah. I come up here whenever I have something on my mind or when I just want to be alone."

"Well, it certainly is breathtaking. But I have to ask: why bring me up here?"

He shrugged and fidgeted slightly. "I just wanted to spend some time alone with you—get to know you. Outside of work and outside of the bar. The _real_ Mika."

She shook her head and frowned. Chestnut brown eyes gazed at the twinkling lights before her, suddenly indifferent. "Trust me, you don't want to know me."

He walked to the edge of the roof and carefully sat down, allowing his legs to swing over the side. He patted the concrete space next to him, signaling Mika to follow suit. Once she was situated, he wrapped his arm around the bare shoulders that her red halter top left exposed. She tensed at the sudden contact. She could feel the warmth of his body as he touched her arms. She shivered against her will.

"Just from what I see when we're on duty together, you're a passionate, intelligent, diligent, _charming_," he smiled, "woman. So, yes, I do want to know you."

Mika turned her head and solidly looked him in the eyes. There was no playfulness in her gaze, but an air of solemnity. She was trying hard to keep anger from bubbling up inside her. The last thing she needed was another person to break her into pieces. Why did he even want to get to know her? Did he really care? A part of her knew that whether he did or not didn't matter; she would not trust him. She couldn't. The least she could do was humor him, though. So, after a while, she sighed and looked away. "Fine. Whaddaya want to know?"

He tapped his chin with the index finger of his free hand. "Hmm…what's your favorite color?"

"White."

"What's your take on the perfect date?"

This earned him a pointed glare. "Well," she started with an exasperated sigh, "we'd have to go somewhere where we could talk and really get to know one another. Like on a boat ride or on a walk through the city."

"Or something like this?"

Mika looked into his beautiful blue eyes and blushed. She looked away. "Yeah, something like this."

He grinned. "Well, what would you look for in the perfect boyfriend?"

"Nobody's perfect, Johann."

"Okay, okay. A _great_ boyfriend."

She found herself laughing and started to twirl a curly lock of hair between her fingers. "He'd have to be able to make me laugh. That's a biggie. He'd also have to be handsome, witty, laid back, caring, compassionate, trustworthy and, above all else …honest."

"Huh. I believe I have seven of those qualities."

Mika thought back on what she said and counted. "But I only listed seven."

"I know."

This caused another round of laughter from the two. They both laughed until their sides hurt and until they felt nauseas. Mika was finally regaining her composure when she leaned her head against his shoulder. The two sat in silence for a spell, just enjoying the warm summer night. Johann unconsciously began running his fingers up and down her bare shoulder.

He broke the silence. "We've been partners for three months now, and I have to say that this time together has been the best time of my life."

"Johann…"

"No, I mean it. Mika...you are just so wonderful and I love everything about you. I cannot stay away from you when we are at work and when I am at home I cannot wait to see you again. I don't intend to alarm you or come off as strange, but you make my life considerably more bearable."

_I make his life considerably more bearable? Who the hell talks like that? _Mika bit back the urge to chuckle. _He expresses himself just the way…Raizo would…_

"So," he continued, "I was wondering if you would do me the honor of allowing me to take you out. On a date."

Date. Dates lead to romantic feelings, romantic feelings lead to relationships, and relationships lead to heartbreak—a path she was not willing to go down again. She had just barely gotten over Raizo. Another man in her life was the last thing she needed. "Look, Johann, I like you too, but only as a friend. You are a wonderful partner and a great person, but I'm just not ready for a relationship right now."

If he was disappointed he didn't show it. He simply nodded and allowed a small smile to curve the corners of his lips. "Ok, I understand. At least let me take you out for coffee Saturday. As friends?"

The whole idea of being 'taken out' left her feeling uneasy. She'd rather just be alone. But he looked so innocent, so hopeful, that she couldn't bear to say no. "Fine. But _just_ as friends. Nothing more, okay?"

He nodded eagerly and grinned. "Understood!" He hugged her tight. "This is gonna be the best not-date ever!"

She grimaced and tried to wiggle away. What had she gotten herself into?

* * *

The coffee shop they were to meet at was typical. No one waited on you at a table. One simply ordered at the counter and your beverage would be waiting at the other end. Smells of freshly ground coffee beans permeated the air and New Age music filled the room.

When Mika waltzed into the shop, all eyes were on her. She wore a pair of denim shorts that ended just below her cheeks, a snug white v-neck that left some midriff exposed, and a matching pair of white stilettos. Her voluminous, wavy tresses fell to one side. She nonchalantly removed her shades and placed them on top of her head. She looked around the room with a cool gaze, her lips a serious line. All who had been staring quickly averted their gaze.

Well, all except for Johann. When she noticed that he was the only one left ogling, jaw agape, she strutted to his booth, sporting a beautiful smile. She slid into the seat opposite him and casually crossed her legs—playfully kicking his shin in the process.

"Mr. Brandt, you do know it's impolite to stare?" she asked with a raised brow, in a teacher's tone.

He swallowed and shook his head as if to clear it of dirty thoughts. "I beg your pardon, madam. How could one look away when faced with such raw beauty?" Such words alone were cajoling. But his German accent made them _captivating_.

"Sir, you flatter me. Please continue."

Johann tried _hard _to maintain a simple smile. But then, the corners of his mouth started to twitch and his chest started to constrict with restrained laughter. When Mika waggled her eyebrows at him, that caused the crack in the dam. He closed his eyes and let loose a laugh that turned heads. The sound was hardy and boisterous and Mika chuckled right along with him.

After five minutes of non-stop laughter, Johann took in a shaky breath. He shook his head, a wide grin on his lips, and put a finger to his chin. "Why are you so amazing?"

Mika batted her lashes and ran a hand through her hair. "Oh, c'mon. I'm not amazing. I'm just…me."

"I know. And that's what makes you so great. There are no false pretenses with you. Everything about you is honest and sincere. For my whole life I've dealt with liars and people who do whatever it takes to get what they want, so to find someone like you? Its…its refreshing."

She blushed and looked away. "Thanks. You dealt with that kind of people for your whole life?"

His eyes flitted to the ceiling before returning to hers and he took in a deep breath; annoyed by the mere thought. "Unfortunately. My father is a very well-known senator and my mother a famous fashion designer. An interesting pair, I know."

Mika's eyes widened. "Oh. I never would've guessed."

"Yeah. So, ever since I was young, I was surrounded by superficial, artificial people who just wanted money or fame. The whole thing just left me feeling disgusted. My mother offered me a job modeling for her clothing line, but I declined. I guess you could say I followed in my father's footsteps, instead, by joining up with the law enforcement." He sighed. "But still, corruption followed me there, as well. I was offered several promotions and pay raises—even when it was obvious that I wasn't ready and that I hadn't earned them. So I declined every single one of them. I told everyone that I wanted to be just like the other officers. I wanted to get promoted when I had truly earned it—not because they wanted to be in my good graces or that of my father."

Mika's warm brown eyes were locked on him, fully impressed by his words. She suddenly had a new-found respect for him. She knew of many people, from back in her days of working for Eurpol, who would jump at the chance of a promotion. The majority of her colleagues were sleazy and dishonest. But Johann was so different. He was genuine and compassionate. He was…

Suddenly, Mika's heart was beating faster than normal. Was she actually developing feelings for this guy? Sure, he was a great friend, but she wasn't ready for their relationship to take a turn down _that_ road.

"So, what about you, Mika?" She shivered against her will. The way her name rolled off of his tongue was like music to her ears. "When we were assigned as partners, I was told that you came from Europol and that you were Head of Operations. What made you want to slum it?" he jested.

Her laugh was soft and light. "Believe me; my being here was not willing." She paused. "I was let go."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Please, forgive me. I didn't know."

She nonchalantly waived his apologies off. "Its fine. I kinda deserved it," she said with a playful smile. "I didn't show up to work for over three months."

He dropped his chin and raised both eyebrows. "Three _months_? Dear God, woman! What were you thinking?"

Mika's expression suddenly grew cold. The smile on her face flat-lined and her eyes became unfocused; distant. She was recalling that time from long ago. Her time with Tanjao. Her time with Raizo. The memories that once brought her pain now made her feel numb. She felt stupid for wasting so much time, for throwing away everything she had ever worked for. What _had_ she been thinking?

Sensing that he had struck a nerve, Johann's smile faded and he reclined in his seat. He patiently waited for her to speak.

"I don't know," she finally replied.

"Look, if this is a sensitive subject for you—"

"No," she said quickly, "it's ok." Her smile was halfhearted and she nodded her head slowly. "I want to talk about it." She looked into his sapphire eyes and found a sense of sincerity in them. For some reason, she felt safe. Like divulging her deepest, most dark secrets to him wouldn't be a mistake. As if she had finally found someone—besides Ryan—she could trust. "Well," she began, "about a year ago I had my first encounter with a ninja." As she spoke those words, she searched his eyes. Did he think she was crazy? Did he believe in the fabled killers of the night?

He nodded in agreement. "So I was told."

"He was supposed to kill me, but for some reason he spared my life. To this day I'm still not sure why. Perhaps he thought I could help him? Anyway, we went through this whole ordeal with his clan called Ozunu. They were a vicious, remorseless clan. Long story short, he saved my life and killed all of his fellow ninja. Even his Master."

This, apparently, was news to Johann for his eyes had widened. "_Really_? He must have been quite the trained assassin. Did you catch his name?"

Again, Mika paused. Why was it so hard to say his name? "…Raizo…," she eventually managed. She sucked in a calming breath before continuing. "A few months later, not fully satisfied with escaping death by a hair's breadth," she spoke those words with bitter sarcasm, "I decided to research some other clans. One night after I began my research, a ninja was waiting for me in my apartment, ready to take my life. But he didn't."

Johann was completely silent; arrested by the excited tale. To her, it was none too amazing. In fact, it was a horrible, dreadful experience that she seldom recalled of her own volition. But she didn't blame him for being so interested. She had felt the same way in the beginning.

"It was Raizo."

"Interesting," he murmured beneath his breath.

"Another long story shortened, he had joined a new clan called Tanjao. They were out to get me because I knew too much about them. So, I was brought to the clan's dojo where I spent the obscene amount of time that got me fired. I was nearly killed, Raizo saved me, and now here I am."

"Did you ever see Raizo again?"

"…No. I never saw him again."

Johann hadn't realized that he had been leaning forward. When Mika ended her story so abruptly, he blinked and sat back. "That's quite the tribulation you went through."

The brunette rolled her eyes. "Tell me about it."

"Well, I don't mean to be inconsiderate, but I'm glad things ended the way they did."

Mika squinted her eyes in a mix of surprise and frustration. "Why?"

"Because I was able to meet you."

The line was cheesy and she should have seen it coming, but nonetheless it left her feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. Her eyes softened and she laughed. "Yeah, I guess there's one good thing that came out if it."

Johann grinned. "This was one hell of a date, if I do say so myself."

"Wait a minute."

He suddenly reached across the table and grabbed her hands. Instantly, crimson danced across her cocoa skin.

"You can't possibly tell me that you don't want this."

She was a nervous, stuttering mess. "I…I…"

"Please, Mika. I promise to take things slow. It's just…now that I have you in my life, how could I ever let you go? I want you. I need you."

First of all, was this even _allowed_? Wouldn't a romantic relationship between two police officers—who were partners, at that—overcomplicate things? But the longer she gazed into those azure eyes, the more her resolve melted.

"Damnit, Johann."

His eyes lit up and his grip on her hands tightened. "Is that a yes?"

She trained her eyes on the table in front of her and nodded.

He immediately got up and dragged her out of the booth. Knocked off balance, she practically fell into his arms and he suffocated her with a bear hug. "Hey everyone," he shouted, "I have a girlfriend!"

Someone in the shop hollered out while others lightly applauded. Mika's cheeks were burning and she had the fabric of the shirt that covered his chest balled up in her fists. "Johann, I'm going to kill you!" she whispered angrily.

"Love you too, babe."

She closed her eyes and groaned. Make three disastrous mistakes in her life? Check.


	4. Torn

**A/N: **This story/chapter is rated M for graphic violence. I, personally, didn't think it was too bad, but I figured I would change the rating for my more sensitive readers. I love writing from Raizo's POV, if you couldn't already tell~ Tell me what you think! Please read, review and enjoy~

_"When a man is in despair, it means that he still believes in something."_

- Dmitri Shostakovich

Chapter 4: Torn

The first thing he did when he walked in the room was fling his tie on the chair nearest the closet. Then came his jacket and vest. He promptly jumped on the bed and rolled onto his back. He inhaled for five seconds, exhaled for five seconds. He reached back, yanked the rubber band from his hair, and ran his fingers through silky, black locks to work out the knots. It was the end of an ordinary day. Or, what he had come to know as 'ordinary'. He trained early in the morning into late afternoon—as was customary—acted as Vitorre's hit man between the hours of five and ten, and accompanied him to his disgusting auctions at midnight. It was all routine. Ordinary.

Today his employer brought home a Korean woman—one of Raizo's own. She had pale skin and gentle features; almost like Kiriko. He could discern nothing about her personality, though, for she had been drugged to the point of unconsciousness. Raizo clenched his hands into tight fists in remembrance. Ending this business with the corrupt, depraved man crossed his mind several times a day. So, why didn't he leave? Because Vitorre was the Boss of the Venetian Mafia. Most people generally don't consider Venice, Italy in terms of organized crime. Especially since the only known gang, Mala del Brenta, fragmented over 20 years ago when their leader, Felice Maniero, was arrested. So, the mere thought of a Mafia didn't even _exist_. Until Vitorre. He got the gang up-and-running 15 years ago. Back then, it was only him, Fabio, and ten others. Now, he had hundreds of men working for him—moving (or selling) everything from heroine to women. He had several senators along with half of the Italian police in his pocket and could pay his way out of jail within hours. He was untouchable.

Besides, one does not simply leave a Mafia. Once you're in, the only way out is in a body bag. Now, Raizo wasn't worried about getting 'whacked' or marked as someone to kill. Killing any of Vitorre's henchmen would be cake. The problem was that they were _relentless_. Those people literally went to the ends of the earth to try and kill you. Raizo had been in a similar situation before when he abandoned his first clan, Ozunu, and had to slay every ninja to finally be free. Although fighting against the less aptly trained Italians would be far easier, their numbers were still incredible. And let's not forget the police and senators. Sure, they would be glad to be rid of the criminals and drugs, but he was sure that they would also miss the extra couple thousand they earned every month for cleaning up Vitorre's messes.

In short, it would be a pain in the ass.

Raizo rolled his eyes. He had a knack for complicating his life. He sat up and, as he slid off of the bed, began unbuttoning his shirt. He tossed the garment on the chair that was home to the rest of his suit. His slacks followed soon after. He moved over to his dresser and pulled out the middle drawer, retrieving a pair of navy blue pajama bottoms. He slid them on over his boxer _briefs_ (because only boys still wore boxers) and returned to his bed. He didn't even bother to pull back the comforter. Instead, he slowly lowered his head onto the pillow and closed his eyes. He took in deep, steadying breaths and cleared his mind of all the troubling, disturbing thoughts that constantly plagued him. Now that his mind was empty and clean, he recalled the image of Mika's smiling face. He would not sleep that night. He never did. But, while looking into the warm, loving eyes of the one he held closest to his heart… That night, he was at peace.

* * *

The sound of angry voices roused him from his meditative-like rest. Vitorre, Fabio, and a few women were arguing about something. Raizo didn't even bother trying to listen. It was probably over something senseless like: 'who drank the last bottle of Jack'? or 'who forgot to pick up their panties'?

"Raizo!" Vitorre yelled. "_Raizo_!"

Said male opened his eyes slowly and leveled the ceiling above him with a disdainful glare. Nonetheless, he rolled out of bed. Raizo followed the sound of Vittore's aggravated cries to the room where he kept his…possessions. The room was as wide as a banquet hall, easily accommodating the many king-sized beds that the women lounged and slept in. Silk pillows littered the floor along with ribbons, glittery scarves, and frilly unmentionables. The Venetian Boss was standing in the middle of the room, handsome face red with rage, glaring at Fabio. Both men had silk robes loosely wrapped about them. Raizo—himself still dressed in night clothes—waltzed into the room. The women turned their heads to lay eyes on the newcomer and purred with delight. They giggled and whispered to one another, obviously impressed by his chiseled physique and cold demeanor.

"Raizo! _There_ you are," Vittore spat when he noticed him. "You will not believe what has happened. Fabio, inform him!"

Fabio did not look as upset. He just looked uneasy. "Well," he started, a bit reluctant, "one of the girls ran away."

"The Korean one from last night! What insolence!" Vitorred yelled. "And this little wretch won't tell us where she has gone." He grabbed a half naked brunette by her hair and yanked her out of bed. She cried out in pain and grabbed at her scalp. "Tell us where she went," he demanded. She turned her mouth up into a scowl and looked away in defiance.

There was not the slightest hesitation when he slapped her. The force of the blow turned her head in the opposite direction. Blood and saliva flew from her mouth. Raizo noted that he struck with the force and precision of one who was accustomed to constantly abusing and beating women.

"I'll ask you once more: Where. Did. She. Go?" Still she remained silent. Vitorre was ready to backhand her and give her a taste of his diamond rings when Raizo spoke up.

"Please," he said quickly, "that will not be necessary." To prove his point, he walked up to the girl and got down on bended knee so that they were face-to-face. "Please, tell me where your friend has gone. We just want to bring her back."

The girl slowly, hesitantly turned her head to face him. There was a glowing red handprint on her cheek from where she had been struck and blood dribbled out of the corner of her mouth. She didn't look a day over 15. Angry tears lined her eyes and spilled onto her cheeks. "The vents," she said through clenched teeth, "she climbed out of the vents."

"When did she leave?" Raizo asked.

"About 15 minutes ago. That's all I know."

Vittore released his hold on her hair and roughly pushed her to the floor. She didn't try to get up. She just laid there, the bruised side of her face pressed to the cool tile and her young body curled into a ball.

The furious Italian turned his wild, cinereous eyes to Raizo. "Find her. But don't bother bringing her back. For her disobedience and audacity, I want her _head_!"

The girl on the floor raised her head. "No…," she murmured.

"Do you understand?!"

"Yes, sir," he replied in a monotone voice.

"NO!" The girl shrieked. Her voice was high-pitched and cracked towards the end of the word. "NO! You lied to me!" She pointed an accusing finger at Raizo. Then, addressing Vitorre, she screamed, "You monster! You MONSTER!" Her shrieks were ear-splitting. The other girls in the room were mortified; hands over their mouths and eyes wide with horror.

"Fabio, punish this girl for not answering me and for helping the other bitch get away." Said male nodded and grabbed her by her shoulders.

"NO!" She continued to scream. She screamed and thrashed as Fabio wrestled her into his arms. "I hate you! I HATE YOU!" Her terrible howls filled the room. Tears and snot ran down her face. Even as Fabio dragged her out of the room and down the hall, her hoarse cries echoed throughout the empty corridors.

Monster...monster…

Vittore and Raizo stood in the room in silence.

"Well, what are you waiting for?"

Raizo nodded. He sprinted back to his room and changed into the black suit that he had received from Ozunu; his uniform for when he was commanded to kill. He was back in the women's room within moments. He looked up and ran his eyes along the ceiling. There. The air vent had not been replaced properly, it was slightly askew. He slowly lowered his eyes to find what she had used to get up there. His eyes soon landed on a mahogany dresser. He ran over to the dresser and moved it so that it was directly underneath the vent. He then climbed on top of the wooden structure and, once he gained his balance, slowly reached up. There was only one screw that held the metal grate in place. He easily unscrewed it with his fingers and threw the screw and piece of metal to the floor. He grabbed the inside of the vent and carefully lifted himself up. This feat took an immense amount of upper body strength for the average person, but for Raizo it was a simple task. He pulled himself up and into the vent in one quick, fluid motion. There was only one path, so he followed it.

As he crawled inside the shiny metal air ducts, the smell of the girl's perfume hit his nose. She would be easy to track. He took a left here, a right there, and eventually came to another air vent. Rather, an empty space where the air vent _should_ have been. He crawled out of the rectangular opening and onto the roof of Vittore's mansion. He inhaled to try and catch her scent. Even with the black clothe that covered his nose and mouth, he could still smell the flowery scent of her perfume. He sniffed the air once more and the fragrance led him to a gutter pipe. His eyes followed the trail he guessed she had taken. From the gutter pipe to the ground, then into the woods a few feet away. Low and behold, he saw her footprints in the grass. Raizo shook his head. So predictable.

He took a few steps back, tensed, and shot forward—catapulting himself off of the roof. His speed and agility afforded him just enough momentum to land him in one of the trees that lined Vitorre's property. From there it was just too easy. He melted into the shadows of the forest. Moving at lightning speed, he jumped from branch to branch, tree to tree. It mattered not if the branch could support his weight, for he only needed to touch down with the tip of his foot before shooting off to the next bough.

It took him mere moments to locate the escapee. A bra and a pair of panties were all that concealed her from the elements. From his vantage point in the trees, Raizo observed that her skin had been cut and scraped by unforgiving, low-hanging branches. He increased his speed until he was ahead of her and jumped out of the trees. He did so slowly, so as not to frighten her. Well, not frighten her too much.

When Raizo landed with a muted 'thud' in front of her, she screamed and stopped in her tracks. Her eyes were wide and her pupils were dilated. She was breathing hard—not only from the scare, but from several minutes of continuous sprinting. Her hair hung messily around her shoulders, matted tendrils drooping over her face. "Who…," she managed in between pants, "who are you?"

"I work for Vitorre."

Raizo noticed that her breaths became faster and faster and that her knees were shaking. Fear. She looked left, she looked right—contemplating escape. She turned her eyes back to his, only to see him coolly staring back. He hadn't moved a muscle since he had landed. He was just a dark, menacing figure in her path. A statue of death.

Realizing that any attempt to flee was futile, she threw her head back and loosed a pained, agonizing cry. She abruptly fell to her knees, ignoring the pain of sharp branches piercing her flesh. She lifted her head so she could look Raizo in the eyes. "Plea-he-hease," she begged, the word fragmented by her sobs, "please don't take me back there."

Raizo allowed the girl to cry, face in her hands. He wished he could help her, he sincerely did. But he could not return to Vitorre without her head. Because he doubted Vitorre would even know the difference, Raizo _could_ just bring back some other Korean girl's head. But that raised two problems. One: where was he even going to _find_ another Korean girl in Italy? And two: what would be the difference? He would still wind up killing an innocent girl one way or the other. Either way, it would be a girl who would meet her demise far too early in life—a girl who was certainly undeserving of such a horrible death. Just a girl…just a girl. Then his thoughts went back to the little girl in the pink nightgown with the stuffed monkey. He had killed her, hadn't he? This was no different.

Raizo sighed. "I won't be bringing you back."

The girl raised her tear-streaked face, hopeful. "Y-You won't? You'll let me go?"

He began to walk towards her. "…No."

There was no need for explanation. Realization struck her with blunt force, leaving her petrified—frozen. When Raizo was mere inches in front of her, he slowly unsheathed his blade. Instead of screaming or shaking in fright, she just sat there. Motionless. As if all of the fight had drained from her. Feeling utterly void and defeated, she bowed her head.

Raizo slowly brought up his katana and rested it on the round surface of her shoulder. He looked down at the crown of her head, at her scraped and bloody thighs and chest, and felt a lump form in his throat. He gripped his sword tight, for fear that his hands might start trembling.

"I'm…I'm sorry."

"I forgive you," she murmured.

Those words split his heart right down the middle. Before he could talk himself out of it, he swiftly swiped his blade. The cut was clean and precise. A dark red, viscous substance quickly poured forth from her neck; drenching her. Her now lifeless body fell forward, causing her head to lose its balance and fall to the side. Raizo caught it before it could hit the ground. In one lightning fast motion, he slashed his katana through the air and her blood went flying. Raizo wiped the blade on his suit for good measure before returning it to its sheath. He used his now free hand to fish a black bag from his suit. He quickly stuffed her head into the bag and drew the strings tight. He then got down on his knees and gingerly placed the bag on the ground.

He started gathering dead, fallen leaves and used them to cover her body. It was no burial, but it was the least he could do. Once he had finished, he rested his hands on his knees and sighed. Who was he? What had he become? Had his lust for blood and death led him this far? Raizo was able to admit that he felt strong urges—_desires_, even—to kill, but was this what he was looking for?

Raizo shook his head and decided that he would think more on the matter later. He had a job to complete. He took the bag that contained the girl's disembodied head into his hands. Immediately, liquid seeped through his gloves and wet his palms. The sight, smell, and feel of blood had never disgusted him. Not even as a child. So, he nonchalantly got to his feet and leapt back up into the trees.

* * *

After greeting the guard at the door, Raizo strode into Vitorre's study. And there the man was, casually sipping a glass of whisky.

Upon laying eyes on the ninja, his face lit up. "Raizo! I trust your little task was a success?"

Said male wordlessly held up the dripping bag.

"Excellent." He clapped his hands three times and a member of Vitorre's infinite infantry of black-suited Italians waltzed in. "Take that bag and stow it in the freezer. And send someone in to clean up the mess." The man looked down and swallowed when he saw the dark droplets of blood on the floor. He nodded quickly. "Sure thing, boss." He cautiously took the bag from Raizo's hand and left the room.

Once the man was a good distance away, Vitorre spread his arms wide and grinned. "You are _truly_ one of a kind!" He filled the room with his booming laughter. "You took care of her and _I_ took care of the disrespectful whore. I administered a punishment so severe that she will think twice before defying me. Would you like to know what I did to her?" he asked with a whimsical air and a quirked brow.

Raizo swallowed. No. No he did not want to know.

Without allowing him time to respond, Vitorre continued, "I cut her tongue out." He allowed those words to hang in the air; in the cold silence. His chilling, calculating grey eyes observed Raizo, waiting to see if his expression would morph into one of disgust or if he would shake his head in disbelief. But Raizo was like a sculpture. Perfectly inert. The neutral line of his mouth didn't even twitch. His eyes did not blink.

But on the inside…

On the inside, bile welled up in his throat. On the inside, his blood ran quick and hot. On the inside…he was breaking down.

Satisfied with Raizo's lack of emotion, Vitorre reclined in his chair. "Yes, I figured that if she refused to speak when spoken to, then she did not deserve to speak at all. A suitable punishment, wouldn't you agree?"

Because he knew not of how else to reply, he said, "Yes, sir." The words were clear and firm, regardless of the hatred that was brewing deep down in his core.

A slow smile curved Vitorre's lips and he resumed sipping his drink. "That will be all."

Raizo nodded and bowed slightly before leaving the room. On his way down the hall, because the normal doorman had been assigned the task of storing the disembodied head, he was free to show emotion. He allowed his eyebrows to pull together and his lips to twist into an angry scowl. He clenched his hands into tight fists. So tight that his knuckles turned a pale white. Anger. _Rage_. Wave upon wave of white hot wrath washed over him, rendering him incapable of rational thought. He couldn't get his thoughts together for the life of him. He didn't know what to say—didn't know what to think!

He was walking quickly through the foyer, front door in sight, when he heard footsteps. Instantly, he relaxed his hands and his features. He turned his head towards a hallway to his left just in time to see her. This time, she had a t-shirt on to cover her exposed body. But that shirt was drenched in blood, the majority of the fluid saturating the collar of her shirt and the area around her abdomen. Her cheeks were swollen, misshapen masses of purple; her eyes a hideous mixture of black and blue. She had several wide cuts on her lips. Cuts that only fists could inflict. All along her arms and legs were black welts and open wounds—likely the work of a metal pipe. And as she walked in front of him, crossing from one end of the foyer to the other, Raizo couldn't keep his eyes off of her mouth. The mouth that had a thick red substance dried around it. The mouth that no longer had a tongue. And as she walked, she stared at him with those blackened, raccoon eyes of hers. And in those eyes he did not see hatred or remorse. Just a tortured, battered soul. Once she had crossed the foyer—or, rather, limped the distance—she disappeared down another hallway.

Wordlessly, Raizo continued to the front door. As soon as he pushed those heavy, wooden doors open, as soon as he crossed the threshold…he ran. He ran on and on and on and on and on in the green, hilly countryside. He continued to run even when the houses became few and far in between. He continued to run even when signs of civilization grew few. He continued to run even when he knew there was a cliff coming up just ahead. It was a sheer drop of 300 feet with a snaking river down below.

He ran and he ran and he ran and he ran. He ran until he was gasping for breath and until a splitting pain shot through his lungs. He ran until there was no more land left. And then, arms spread wide and face to the sky...

He jumped.


	5. Gone

**A/N: **Finally! The long awaited chapter five is finally here! I am SO sorry for taking so long, but I hope this was worth the wait ;) Please Read, Review, and Enjoy~

_Lust's passion will be served; it demands, it militates, it tyrannizes._

- Marquis de Sade

Chapter 5: Gone

She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. When she reopened them, she gave each member of her team a stern look. She mouthed the words, "Three, two, one…" Mika Coretti kicked open the door and quickly had her gun held at the ready. "Polizei! Get on the ground!" Her voice was loud and deep, demanding authority. Her team, four including herself, stormed into the house and repeated those words. The men inside jumped up in surprise. But once they realized they were outnumbered and had guns pointed at their heads, they slowly put their hands up and sunk to the ground.

Mika and Johann still had their pistols pointed as the other two members of the team patted down the men for weapons. Once it was clear that the men were clean, they gave Mika a nod of approval. She returned her gun to its holster and nodded her head in the direction of the door. "Get 'em out of here." Her fellow officers roughly yanked the men up and pushed them out of the house.

As they searched the house for drugs and weapons, Johann cast Mika a playful smirk. "Nice police work, Coretti. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were looking for a promotion to _Captain_."

Mika had pulled out a draw full of little bags of cocaine and was putting the packages in an evidence bag. She didn't even have to look at him as she rolled her eyes. "It's a good thing you know better, then."

"Oh, c'mon, baby."

Mika froze and shot him an incredulous glare.

He quickly raised his hands in a placating manner. "Whoops, my bad. Kinda just slips out." His apology was voided by his booming laughter.

"Listen, if you can't take your job seriously when you're working with me, maybe I should request another partner."

Johann kissed his teeth and waived her off. "As you Americans would say, 'Quit being such a tight ass.'"

Mika bristled and blushed at his words. "I-I'm not a tight ass!"

The other two team members had sent off the suspects with another cruiser. They had just entered the room when Johann made his sly remark.

One of the officers, tall and slender with jet black hair, chuckled. He nudged his partner with his elbow, "You know what her problem is, right?"

His partner gave him a mischievous grin and nodded his head slowly.

Mika whipped around and placed a firm hand on her hip. "My _problem_? Please inform me, Klein, what is my _problem_?"

The tall brunette shrugged. "Well you're problem—and excuse my language—is that you're not _getting any_."

Mika stiffened. "What?"

Klein's partner chimed in, "What he's trying to say is: no one's tapping that, there are bats in the belfry… In short: you need to get some di—"

"Alright!" Mika shouted, "That is enough. All off you get back into your vehicles and get back to the station!" It was a bit difficult to take her seriously with the red pigment that now covered her cheeks. After the two chuckling officers had left, Johann put a consoling arm around her shoulder and shook his head, playful smile on his lips.

"I'm terribly sorry for their indiscretion."

Mika pouted in response.

"But you know, they do have you pegged." After that remark, Johann dashed out of the house just as Mika was reaching for her gun.

* * *

Mika had secluded herself from the rest of her colleagues. She sat rather dejected at her desk, filling out paperwork. The nerve of those men! Sex is not all there is to life! Men think that if a woman is to feel anger or frustration or any other emotion besides happiness, she _must_ be sexually deprived or else on her cycle. These thoughts caused another wave of agitation to wash over her. She was angrily scribbling something down when her 'boyfriend' waltzed up to her desk.

"Hello, darling."

"Please don't."

"Oh, come now, Mika. Have I not yet earned that right?"

"No. And after this morning's events, I'd say you have a _long_ way to go," she said without looking up from her task. "Now, if all you came to do is harass me, then—"

Johann sighed. "No, the Chief actually sent me. He'd like to see the both of us in his office."

Mika froze. Did he find out about their relationship? Was she going to be written up for something? She quickly regained her composure, though, and slowly stood. She dusted off her pants and quietly followed Johann to the Chief's office. Said male knocked on the glass door twice before entering. "You wanted to see us?"

The Chief was lounging behind his desk and loosely gestured to two seats in front of him. "Have a seat."

Mika swallowed and they both did as they were told.

"Now," the Chief began, "I've been watching you two for quite some time and I've noticed a few things." He let those words hang in the air. Johann and Mika were perfect statues; composed and resolute. "I've noticed you two work very well together."

Mika's shoulders relaxed as a sign of relief.

"I've never had so many successful takedowns until you guys became partners. With that and your unique individual skills, I have a special assignment for you. We've always had a trafficking problem here in Germany, but there seems to be a large spike right about now. Our sources say that the crime leaders of Berlin are starting to do business with the Boss of the Venetian Mafia. That's out of our jurisdiction, I know, but it's starting to effect crime rates here."

"So what would you like us to do?" Johann inquired.

"I want you to go undercover." His steady, penetrating gaze was pointed to Mika. "We have a man on the inside who arranged for a certain 'Lisa' to meet up with Lucien—a gang Big Wig who we've been trying to bust for years. We think he directs the trafficking. Now, you two will be meeting at a diner under the pretenses of a job interview. He will invite you to go for a walk and you will be abducted. Its common practice for them."

This caused Johann to get a bit uneasy. He fidgeted in his seat. "Abducted? Don't you think that's going a little too far? Who knows what might happen to her?"

The Chief smiled slowly. "Take it easy, Brandt. She'll be wearing a wire. Once he invites her out for that walk, our men will be waiting by every exit to take him out." He paused and allowed the information to sink in. "So, Corretti, what do you say?"

She took a minute to consider. Ah, what the hell? What did she have to lose? After a moment she said in a clear, firm voice, "What's my name and when do we meet?"

"Your full name's Lisa Harris and you'll be meeting in a few hours, at three o'clock." He stood, picked up a file, and walked around the desk. "Here is your resume, some references from your past employers, and some general information about you. Go over it and be ready to leave in two hours."

"Got it."

"What about me?" Johann asked.

"You'll be leading the mission in a recon van across the street. With your word, the team will apprehend Lucien."

Mika and Johann exchanged a look. She then turned to her superior and graced him with a smile. "You got it, Chief."

* * *

Mika was walking down the street towards the diner, headset masterfully hidden in her ear. She was dressed in a pair of black slacks and a simple, white buttoned-down shirt. A familiar voice rang in her ear, "Be careful, Mika."

"Yes, I heard you the other ten times. I'll be fine. Just listen for my signal." By then she had reached the diner and strode inside. The scent of coffee and syrup permeated the air. She stood at the front of the establishment and looked around. Because she was new to this part of Berlin and dealing with gangs, she hadn't the slightest clue what Lucien actually looked like. A few minutes passed before the hostess walked up and greeted her with a warm smile. "A table for one?"

"Um, no. I'm supposed to be meeting someone for an interview?"

"Ah, Lucien. Yes, my dear, he is expecting you. Right this way." She led Mika to a table for two in the middle of the diner. Seated at the table was a male in a dark blue suit with a grey tie. One leg was crossed over the other and he was holding a menu in front of his face, obstructing Mika's view.

Without even a glance up, the man asked, "Ms. Harris?"

"Yes, that's me."

"Please, have a seat." Mika did as she was instruced. The hostess smiled and asked, "Would you like me to get you anything? Perhaps a menu?"

"No, thank you," Mika replied. The woman walked away and left the two alone.

After a few moments of tense silence, and without putting down his menu, Lucien spoke. "So, Ms. Harris, after going over your resume I have to admit: I am quite impressed."

"Thank you," Mika said in a sweet voice. "And, please, call me Lisa."

"Well, Lisa, I have to be honest with you. This interview is just a formality." The irony of those words was not lost on her. "After contacting your references and reviewing your resume, we at Morgan and Berman Law have concluded that you would be a perfect fit for a position as our new paralegal."

Mika (who found it extremely rude that he had not once put down his menu) happily exclaimed, "Really? Oh my goodness, thank you so much!"

"Of course!"

Finally, he lowered his menu. It took Mika's brain a few seconds to process his features. But when she did, her heart skipped a beat. She gasped audibly and placed a hand to her chest. Her eyes went wide, her pupils dilated, and she visibly began to shake.

How? How could this have _possibly_ happened? Why was he even here?!

Lucien had a similar response. His eyes widened as well, but instead of fear gripping him, hot wrath coursed through his veins. She could see the fiery rage blazing in those sharp, piercing green eyes. Within seconds, though, Lucien collected himself. He propped up his elbows on the table and slowly laced his fingers together. The anger in his eyes was replaced by a darker, more insidious emotion. A slow smile curved his lips.

Mika swallowed hard.

"Lisa…" He said her name slowly, all the while looking into those deep brown eyes. "Lisa, you look so very familiar." He spoke his words carefully and slowly.

"R-Really?" Despite her best efforts, Mika's voiced cracked.

"Yes! I _swear_ I must have seen you once before."

Mika was starting to breathe fast. "Oh? Where?"

Without breaking eye contact, he said, "At a funeral."

_Oh my God. I have to get out of here. I have to signal Johann! _

"But, that was some months ago. It was a sad procession, but then so is life." He paused for just a little while to take all of her in. The fear in her eyes, the perspiration on her brow, her quivering lips. Suddenly, he stood and spread his arms out wide with a big smile on his face. "Ah, enough with this place! I didn't find anything good on the menu, anyway. Let's go for a walk, shall we?"

The walk. This was it. She was going to be…abducted. But not by just any man, not by Lucien.

By _Kenji_. Kenji…singularly the most evil living creature it had ever been her misfortune to meet.

She shakily got to her feet and followed him to the back of the diner. They were nearing the exit when he suddenly and swiftly turned around and yanked her in the direction of the restrooms. He effortlessly dragged her into the men's restroom despite her struggling. He quickly locked the door behind them and roughly threw her against the wall. Signals of pain shot up and down her back and rebounded in the back of her skull as she hit cold concrete. Instantly he was upon her, fiercely seizing her hands and pinning them on either side of her head.

"_Mika_!" he said her name with such a mixture of venom and lust that her whole body was seized by a violent tremor.

Across the street in the van, Johann heard her cries of pain and heard him speak her real name. Red flags went off in his head. How did Lucien know?

Kenji buried his face in the soft flesh of her neck and inhaled deeply. "I never dreamed of seeing you again."

"Please—"

"Shhh," he whispered, cutting her off, "let me savor this moment." He slowly, gingerly kissed her neck. "Mmm," he groaned. Without hesitation he ran his hand up her shirt and easily found what he was looking for. Mika shrieked and screamed as he ripped the wire from her chest. His chuckle was deep and seductive. "What a naughty girl you've been, Mika. So indescribably _bad_." He regained control of both wrists once more and gripped them so tightly that he pinched her nerves and cut off blood circulation. Mika could not hold back her screams.

He leaned in once more and bit down on the brown skin of her neck. He exhaled slowly, his warm breath washing over her. "I cannot wait to punish you."

"K-Kenji, please!" she stammered. She struggled and squirmed, but his grip was relentless. Mika still could not get over the fact that he was even _here_ to begin with. Shouldn't he be at the dojo of Tanjao? Something darker than fate must have brought them together.

He ignored her plea and continued to passionately kiss her supple skin. "And to think all this time I attributed my many restful, wonderful nights of sleep to the thought that you were buried somewhere six feet below," he whispered against her neck. "And yet…here you are! My Sleeping Beauty has awakened."

Mika's heart was beating fast while conflicting emotions consumed her. On the one hand, the way he kissed her and whispered in that low seductive voice made her knees weak, on the other…he had been more than elated when she 'died'. Who knew pure evil could be so enticing?

"Now, the only trouble is what to do with you…"

Finding her voice, Mika spoke up, "Why don't you just sell me like you were planning on doing with 'Lisa'?"

"Don't be ridiculous! Why would I waste such a delightful opportunity? You know, I suppose there was a degree of falsity in my words before."

Mika shivered. "What do you mean?"

Kenji raised his head, hands still pinning her wrists, and looked her straight in the eyes. He leaned in and gingerly grazed her lips with his. "I know _exactly_ what to do with you."

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that his hands were…smoking? Slowly, his fingers dissolved into dark, thick wisps of smoke. Then went his arms, his torso, his legs. The last things to dissolve into smoke were his piercing emerald eyes. Soon, Mika found herself surrounded by dense, almost suffocating smog. But then it got darker and she found it even harder to breath. She brought her hands to her throat and fell to her knees, gasping for air. She was choking and gagging and clawing at the tiled floor. A name could be heard as she struggled in the darkness; it was spoken with her last conscious breath.

"Johann…"

Everything went black.

* * *

"What do you mean she's gone?!" The Chief of Police was absolutely livid.

Johann was pacing the length of the Chief's office, eyes wild. He hadn't the slightest clue! "I-I don't know! All I know is that right before we lost connection, he said her name. Her _real_ name. How those two know each other is completely beyond me. I waited a few minutes to see if they would come out, but they didn't. So, I sent the team in to search the place, and…"

"And they were gone," the Chief completed, leveling Johann with a cold glare. "This is ridiculous! How does something like this happen?!"

Klein, who was on the team and who had been standing in the office, spoke up. "It's true, Chief. Neither Mika nor Lucien left that building. When we searched the place, neither of them could be found. The only thing that was unusual was that the men's bathroom smelt like smoke."

The Chief pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the perspiration from his shaven head. "Okay, here's what we're gonna do: we're gonna hand this case over to the guys in forensics and _you_ _two_ are going to find Mika, understood?"

They both nodded in agreement.

"Good. And if Lucien is with her, bring him in. If not, _do not_ go looking for him. Mika is our primary objective." The Chief sighed and rubbed the bridge of nose, trying to ease the stress. "Now get the hell out of my office."

* * *

Her eyes flew open and she frantically sucked in air, like a man near the point of drowning who had just resurfaced. Her chest rose and fell in quick succession, up and down as her body tried to satisfy its desperation for oxygen. She tried to use her hands to wipe the sweat from her cheeks, only to find that they had been bound. She looked around and noted that she was on her back and lying on a bed. She tilted her head up and noted that her wrists were tied around one of the bars of the headboard. She tried in vain to wiggle free, but the rope had been tied tight and knotted several times.

She kissed her teeth in frustration. _Where the hell am I? _The only sources of light were the weak, yellow flames produced by a few candles on the nightstand. She couldn't see anything past the foot of the bed. The sheets she laid on were made of fine satin and were a deep royal blue. It was when she observed this that she also realized someone had removed her slacks and unbuttoned her shirt. Now all she wore were her undergarments and a long sleeved, white shirt that was open—leaving her exposed. She shifted uncomfortably.

There was a slow, ominous creak from the left; likely a door on rusty hinges that had just been opened. A few moments later, Kenji emerged from the darkness and took a seat on the corner of the bed. Mika couldn't help ogling his chiseled body. His skin was tan and his muscles toned. His blonde hair stood up in wet spikes, as if he had just gotten out of the shower. All that he wore were a pair of striped boxers, and even that didn't hide much.

His emerald eyes slowly snaked up her body. Taking in those dainty feet, her slim, sleek thighs, her wide hips, the frilly lace of her red undergarments, and the flat expanse of her stomach. When his eyes finally met hers, Mika swallowed against her will.

He let out a slow, long sigh. "_Mika_. I've waited so long for this moment."

"Kenji, let me go."

"Oh, of course. I am powerless against your command!" He rolled his eyes and smiled. He stretched out a hand to stroke a smooth leg, but she quickly moved it away. "You know, I'm not supposed to…tamper…with the Boss' merchandise..." Kenji pulled his legs onto the bed and crawled closer.

Mika tensed and tried to move backwards.

"But, technically, you're not considered _his_ until I brand you."

This made Mika's heart skip a beat. "Brand me?"

"Yes. You know, like cattle?" His movements were careful and slow. He continued his crawl until he was above her. He roughly forced her legs apart with his knees and placed his hands on either side of her head. Slowly, Kenji leaned down and pressed his soft lips against hers. She shuddered and turned away. His smile was soft as he took hold of her chin and gently brought her face back to his. "Don't resist me…" he murmured. He leaned in again and kissed her lips. And this time, she couldn't resist—didn't resist.


End file.
